#anyway this is rough but what else can i expect using my old drawing tablet while in a hostel lol

[literallyjustanerd]

vader's favourite attack dog

[cosmosrival]

Rico besides Kama what do you think about the other indian servants?????

AHHHHHHHHHH THIS IS GOING TO GET SOOOO LONG!!!! i have a different view of the indo fam as a whole. i call them the indo fam but i mean the found family trope!!!! theyre like a group of college students sharing a dorm if that makes sense, since their servant selves are obviously different from their initial myths/human vessels!!!

OK SO. RECENTLY, i have an oomf that found books about arjuna that summarize his exploits in the mahabharata(I DONT HAVE THE STRENGTH TO READ IT ALL IM SO SORRY) and also talk about him in a more philosphical manner such as his states of mind during each event etc and i’ve been meaning to read said book because im genuinely interested in arjuna now!!! and i’d like to know more about this indo prince because from what i’ve seen, he is portrayed in a rather bad light(?) in FGO which i find extremely !!!!!!!!!!! and incrdibley !!!!!!! strange !!!!!!! the mahabharata’s conflicts can be put in a mostly grey area where there’s no good nor bad, its not black and white. so seeing arjuna get bashed because of the way his conflict with karna was written is... hm. let’s say that im REALLY starting to understand arjuna fans that dislike seeing him get mischaracterized so much. OTHER THAN THAT, his design is adorable, his travel outfit is my favourite because he deserves to relax and have some fun!!! fgo making him a chuuni is cute and his VAs little moans are cute cute cute!!!!!!!!!!! (mash grabs my shoulder and forces me to sit down) i think that arjuna deserves better and im really happy to see him have fun in his travel costume voicelines. i think we should take arjun on a date!!! he’s a great lover, we’d have the best time!! OH ALSO, kama seeing him as the student council president in their interlude makes me SOOOOOOO HAPPY its unreal, i think it fits him very very well, the seitokaichou who was elected because of everyone’s hopes and recommended by teachers because he’s suuuch a good student but because of that, the pressure to be good is constantly towering over his head and everytime he looks out the window he wishes he could ditch class and skip a day just because he felt like going to the arcade and be a bad student.......just this once........i think hes very very cute...... i want him to cook for me. HAVE YO U READ HIS BOND 4 VOICELINE ?mmmmmggg i want him to get embarrassed everytime i praise him for having such a muscular waistline. AUG

ANEWAYS i also have quite the thoughts about karna, his characterization in the game is linked to arjuna’s and thats fine but i think that forgetting how much of a little sassy bastard he can get was a mistake! did you know that in apocrypha’s german dub on netflix, when jeanne calls his name like “You’re Karna, aren’t you ? The son of the Indian Sun God !” HES LIKE “So ?” AND THAT WAS SOOOO BITCHY OF HIM, i think that karna is a good boy in fgo but the fact that he was such a fighty old man in the mahabharata shouldnt be forgotten and is a charm trait. I MEAN ???? HE THREW HANDS WITH AN 18 YEAR OLD(ARJUN) WHILE BEIN LIKE... THIRTY TWO. WHATS WITH THIS ANNOYING OLD MAN !!!!! knowing these little facts about him made me like him so much more actually !! i think karna being so nice is adorable!! but the little bitchy energy u can find in his voicelines is also very charming!! i think karna looking at me emotionless as i ask him to lend me his notes for the nth time that week and then saying “...Mn.” when i thank him is cute!!! his voiceline towards things he dislikes is interesting to me. karna seeming aloof and mean bc he doesnt know how to communicate but is actually nice underneath...... hey... thats a little delinquentcore........ i wouldnt say yankii but hes like... hes like... u know hes the handsome quiet one of the group of yankiis... u know the one...? hey where are you going

ganesha is also a character im deeply interested in but i havent played CCC so i dont know that many details about jinako herself !! my brain goes HMMMMMM it seems lord ganesha is trans in fgo ! (since kama used to be a male god originally as well!!) ganesha uses all pronouns!!! and ganesha is also special to me because they share similar traits with kama when it comes to their characterization AND mischaracterizations. ganesha isnt JUST jinako. theres a part of a god in the servant mix!!! and jinako HERSELF is actually a pretty sad character imo. the whole otaku/neet thing is obviously a facade and her true wish being that she wants to redo her whole life is also proof of how much she hates what shes become, yet at the same time, she doesnt know what else she could do. but anyways, i prefer looking at servants from a lore POV so i think that ganesha should still be considered a god and be adressed as such!! i like seeing people portray ganesha as jinako but i prefer it when a certain lavish more godly side of them is put forward. a side of jinako that managed to move on a little bit if that makes sense ? that got more serious. and became someone else entierly despite sharing similarities. needless to say their bond with karna makes me happy since he shows them respect as you should towards a god!! its a bit different from their bond in CCC... like they matured somewhat!! anyway ganesha is the one who taught everyone else in the indo fam about video games and technology and i will NEVER shut up.

ashwatthama..... MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM %_’(’ç_”’è_ç(è_’”545656455456545453£¨¨µ¨µMµ¨++°=)=)°+ goodness. jesus christ on earth. my love story with him makes me so embarrassed. when he got revealed i instantly fell in love with him despite knowing JACK SHIT ABOUT HIM but since i was the only one in my friend group who was hardcore into fgo at the time, i kept my love for him to myself and just... (looks away)(i drop my wallet full of picturses of him) quietly adored his everything in silence. WELL, ree having an intense crush on yankii type characters isnt new, its been my favourite trope for ages (gyarus go in hand with them!!) and im still very attached to it so thats what made me love him in the first place!!!! BUT THEN. I GOT INTO HIS MAHABHARATAN LORE. And OHHHHHHHHH BABY.......... (im twirling my hair) so theres this 7ft tall war criminal..........<3<33<3(mash leans in and informs me that the convention of geneva didnt exist at the time) SO THERES THIS 7 FTTALL IMMORTALMAN.......<233 gOD he makes me absolutely CRAZY9909840385%£%%£%%µ%µ%µ the love i have for this character is immense and whenever im sad i remember that pako exists and has a tablet and can draw and i suddenly feel so much better. ok im gonna stop horny posting a little bit. but hes my wife. AND WHAT I LOVE ABOUT HIS PORTRAYAL IN FGO IS THAT, they actually made him a good boy despite his initial roughness and misdeeds ???!!! HELLO?? ashwatthama wishing for a redemption ark is my favourite thing and his righteousness that was born because of his regrets is a very interesting drivepoint to me !!! hes a gorgeous character and im buying a ticket plane as we speak right now so i can go find him in northern india. i’ll find him. GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME !!!!!GET OFF ME !!!

miss lakshimi makes me very sad! because every female servant in the indo fam is an already known face. (... would sita count.) and lakshi being a jeanneface is a waste. well, she’s still very pretty and her lore is also quite interesting!! i havent looked into it fully yet but i think she should be kissed on the mouth. her bad luck makes me slip on a banana peel whenevr i get close to her to kiss her and i hit my head on the pavement and pass away- 

parvati is on a tough spot for me atm. i genuinely love thinking of her as the way the indian goddess herself is portrayed because thats where the fun lies for me in her character. especially when shes involved with other indian servants, thats a given!! i would like to see parvati grow, suffer and heal. because branding her as an “all-knowing mom” is easy, but every single parent makes mistakes if you follow that logic. also, since shes the sakura servant “thats closest to her initial personality”, she’s got some of the most Repulsive fans ive Ever witnessed in fandom spaces and lets say that im trying to work my way out of this hellhole and find things to like about parvati without the fandom’s influence. needless to say, im going to keep looking into her mythos and her lore by myself at my own pace and keep doing my own thing in my little corner. 

rama shouldve been a jock. THE RAMAYANA IS OLDER THAN THE MAHABHARATA, WHY IS.....Hrm well him being summoned as his baby version gives me hope for a future rama alt perhaps??? but i think that he shouldve been a total jock and he shouldve been huge with a huge red lion-like mane for his hair and a teethy grin and big biceps and intense love for his wife. SPEAKING OF SITA, her charm point is her purity but i wish.... that their artist still hadnt drawn them like That, im not a fan of lily servants and i think purity = being young is a bit of an annoying excuse!!! rama and sita looking similar is because of their shared history which is fine but... rolls my eyes............. rama shouldve been 6ft tall and sita shouldve been a milf to match...... anyways i doubt ravana would be added as a servant but i’d love to have a ramayana centric event!! where all indo servants have their own lore centric role to play!!! oh thatd be a dream.... but i have learned to not expect much from a fanservice game so im jus gonna draw my own stuff! (strikes a pose!) (mashu claps!)

[ravenwritesstuff]

Best Laid Plans (10/?)

Fandom: Frozen (modern AU, no magic) Pairings: Helsa, established Kristanna, Rapunzel/Eugene, lotsa frohana Rating: T for now, M later almost for sure A/N: Fun fact about why it takes me so long to write stuff. I write everything out of order. The very first scene I wrote of this fiction is in this chapter.

She cannot help but be wary. She has seen what happens when Hans Westergaard shows what he wants and she is all too familiar with that heat and tension. Her body tightens in anticipation of what he means, and does her best to hide her apprehension behind professionalism.

"While I am sure we all are thrilled with the mystery of your offer, it really is critical that we establish exactly what you want as quickly as we can as our timeline is so limited." 

She has never had a client be so withdrawn about their event or purpose before. Most clients could not wait to throw ideas and concepts and colors in her direction or instead all the things they didn’t want. So far she knows he liked the wedding because they danced and that he likes the ocean. She is in no way prepared for an event where that is the center. His lack of forthcoming throws her off balance and makes her irritable. She is not sure if it is just the Hans Westergaard way or if she is actually losing control of the situation. Whatever it is, she does not like it, but she hides her discomfort behind a Mona Lisa smile.

"Of course. Which is why I am going to show it to you as soon as I can. But it will require the wearing of swimsuits and the ability to swim. Are you all up to the occasion?” He is in full showman now, the elegant host, and while she feels more at ease when he is in this space she also likes it less. The conflict leaves her with feelings she promptly ignores and shoves down beneath the mental checklists ticking through her mind. 

“Per your vague instructions I believe we are all prepared for a swim,” she looks around at her team to get their confirmation even though she knows they all packed accordingly. “But really we have so much to cover. I think it will be best if we work through a few more steps before we get distracted.”

“Oh this is not a distraction. I promise.” He peers out over the ocean, shielding his eyes to make out something. “We have ten minutes before we need to get suited up so let’s talk until then.” He leans back and sips his coffee. “I would love to hear more from the team personally. Why do you all do what you do? What part of the events you manage is your favorite?” 

It is an unconventional question, but what other kind can she expect from Hans Westergaard? 

She watches as the team all look at each other with puzzled expressions and she is glad that at least this time she is not the only one befuddled by what Hans Westergaard has to say. 

“I mean - I guess my favorite thing is that I get to work with my family.” Anna chimes in first, smiling at Elsa and Kristoff. “We make a great team and I don’t know many families that can say that!” She turns to Rapunzel and Eugene as well. “And I’ve gained new family members I never knew before. So it is a win all around.”

“As someone deeply acquainted with the complications of family - I appreciate that Anna.” 

It is strange to hear her sister’s name on his lips, to see him smile at her and smile in return. 

Anna nudges Kristoff with her elbow and he grunts before offering:

“I get to work with my hands and make my wife happy. Not much better than that.” He chuckles when Anna throws her arm across his stomach and side hugs him. “Plus there is something awesome when a client sees you build the thing they wanted just like they wanted. Makes you feel like Santa or something.”

“The tables and altar at Eric’s weddings were incredible. You made those?”

Kristoff tilts his head, not one to enjoy outright praise, and then nods. 

Hans returns his nod with a smile. “Excellent work. Truly. I have ideas for you.”

Elsa sees an opportunity and cuts in: “We would love to hear more about those ideas so we can really talk them over and -”

“Hold on,” Mister Westergaard holds up his hand and focuses on the petite brunette across from him. “What is your favorite part of planning events?”

“Oh. I love weddings and I know you aren’t planning a wedding, but they are my favorite.” Rapunzel’s eyes widen. “But my favorite part of my favorite weddings is the kiss. You can totally tell who is going to make it and who isn’t by the kiss. When the groom really kisses the bride - or bride kisses the bride - or groom and groom - oh you get it. When they kiss them in the way that you can almost feel it from the back row… yeah. That’s my favorite part because I know we did something to give them their happily ever after.”

Leave it to Rapunzel would say something fantastical. Never mind that it has absolutely nothing to do with her role in the company or what is at the heart of their events, but it is water under the bridge. Elsa sniffs.

“Is everything okay?” It is Mister Westergaard. He is arching his brow in the most annoying fashion because it makes her stomach flutter and her mouth go dry and she screwed up. She drew attention to herself at the worst time possible.

“Don’t mind her.” Rapunzel interjects before Elsa can even force a smile. “It’s just that Elsa has never really been kissed.” She smiles a little too broadly at her boss before looking at Eugene (who is honestly at a loss). 

Elsa is flummoxed by the comment and she can practically see the mischief dancing across Rapunzel’s features. She is living for this, needling her like the second younger sister she never had. Anna is hiding laughter behind her strawberry lemonade where Kristoff’s eyes are wider than she has ever seen them. 

She cannot even look at Hans Westergaard. 

Eugene clears his throat and swoops in while Elsa’s mind sputters at Rapunzel’s brazenness.

“Well to be completely honest I had a bit of a rough start. I didn’t exactly use my super negotiation skills for good, but Elsa gave me an opportunity to do what I do in a productive way and that is what I enjoy the most. I like knowing I can con a deal for my client,” it is a joke and they all force a laugh. “Plus I like parties.”

Even Hans Westergaard manages a smirking chuckle without all of Eugene’s history. Chances are he has files on all them from some sort of private detective or something invasive like that anyway. There is no need for elaboration.

“So what about you, Hans?” Anna says, sipping her drink, deflecting from what was to inevitably be Elsa’s turn to share. “Why E&A Events? What do we bring to the table that you want for your event?”

Elsa could hug her sister for the segway. 

Anything to focus past the horrendous mess Rapunzel insisted on introducing and keep Elsa from having to answer Hans’ time wasting question.

Hans looks at them all and smiles. It is wide and easy, like he has never had any other job besides smiling at them and his response makes her boil. She hates his smile, his calm, that he had somehow gotten her on this ship where her insides are being flipped and churned and turned upside down. 

“I want you because you are unexpected,” he says matter-of-factly. “You aren’t what I thought I would want but somehow you are exactly, wholly, and perfectly what I need right now.” 

Elsa does not need to look up from her tablet to know he is speaking directly to her. She can feel his gaze as sure as she can feel the hammering pulse in her throat. It takes her best efforts to  take rein of her stampeding thoughts and draw a deep breath.

“That is very nice of you to say Mister Westergaard,” she pretends to be very busy taking notes on her tablet. “We are excited to dive into the particulars about why you chose us but right now I think the question we all have is just what exactly we are endeavoring to initiate.” 

He nods and looks again at the horizon just as the ship’s pace slows dramatically. His smile spreads. He looks back at them.

“You’re about to find out. It is time to suit up.”

….

Elsa put on her incredibly conservative one piece in the stark privacy of a marble and gold bathroom. The couples were given other rooms and while she knows the lighting is not flattering all she can do is look at flaws in the mirror. The suit had been specifically chosen because it did not show any of her scars. The navy suit had no cut outs, barely scooped below her collarbones and shoulder blades. The suit is made out the same fabric that swim athletes use. It compresses every inch it encases but it covers everything and is not flashy in the slightest. 

She had told Anna and Rapunzel to leave the bikinis at home.

She hopes they had or else her suit is going to look impossibly old fashioned.

She turns sidewise in the mirror and sucks in. She is not certain why. Her shape is her shape. There is little much she can do about that now. Her swim wrap is her saving grace. It looks much like any of the other dresses she might wear throughout the week though  is slightly sheer. The almost black is burned out with floral patterns and wraps at the waist with a feminine sensibility she normally eschews, but she had nothing else that would serve on such short notice. 

She looks at herself once more, feels her bare feet on the cool tile and breathes. This is fine. She is simply winning over a client that her company needs to impress. That is all. 

She presses her hands against her stomach and breathes. 

She does not tell herself it will be okay. She has not done that in years. Instead she tells herself it will all be managed. It will happen and she will handle it, whatever it is. This is a test and she intends on passing it. 

There are risk to swimming with her condition, but she knows her team has her back. They will watch her. It will be okay.

She tosses her braid over her shoulder, makes sure her personal items and stacked tidily in the corner, forces herself out of the bathroom.

The rest of them are already waiting on the aft desk. She hopes she hadn’t taken too long, not wanting to raise suspicion by her lengthy change. She assesses everyone’s dress as she approaches. The expression of personalities under the instruction of ‘dress appropriately’ is not lost on her with Anna’s tankini beneath a loosely tied robe, Kristoff’s rash guard and the longest possible swimmers available. Eugene trends towards more fashionable Bermuda cuts and Rapunzel’s suit is a one piece that hardly qualifies with all of the crazy cut outs. That leaves Hans Westergaard who stands in shorts similar to Eugene’s and a plain white t-shirt that is too tight to be decent.

She tries to not notice the shape of his calves, the size and shape of his feet, but it is a lost cause. Her rebellious mind grabs onto these facts before she can convince it not to. He smiles as he sees her and it is the same earth shattering power that leaves her shaky and uncertain where the rest of the world went.

“Shall we?” he says to the group before leading them out of the shaded part of the deck out into the bright sun. 

She squints and pulls her sunglasses down over her eyes as he leads them out past the infinity pool. There are wide steps beyond it railed with stainless steel grips and she clings to them as they descend to what appears to be a small launching platform.. At the base there is a large white space where three crew members wait. They demonstrate general snorkeling protocol that she vaguely remembers from when she was six, before this all began. They offer up equipment. They fit it to them. Then the worst comes. 

Every swimmer must have one buddy. Pick your buddy and know you are responsible for them out in the water.  

And the lines are so clearly drawn. 

She stands fidgeting with her mask and flippers knowing she is now responsible for Hans Westergaard. Anna casts her a knowing glance, but Elsa knows that damage that would be done if she let Anna be her partner. The affront will be obvious, personal, and honestly this is the least of worst case scenarios. 

It is just swimming. They won’t have to touch or speak. All she has to do is make sure that Hans Westergaard does not die. Easy peasy. 

With a return glance she calms her sister’s concerns. It will be okay. This is okay. She is okay. 

Then the crew is distributing sturdy plastic bottles to everyone named with only the words BODY and FACE This time though Mr Westergaard steps up to explain the reasons.

“This is just a little project I’ve been working on - a new line of sunblock. If you don’t mind using this instead of the kind you brought I would love to know what you think.”

Elsa holds both bottles in her hands thinking it is a bit strange, but she would rather have him be strange than charming. She had applied sunblock that morning in her apartment just in case, but the sun is bright and she is not interested in burning. 

She opens the bottle labeled BODY and starts with her legs and feet. The scent and feel of a lotion is pleasing. The texture is not oily or rough but actually absorbs into the skin easily. The scent is not overwhelmingly tropical but instead has the essence of eucalyptus. It is refreshing. She hates to admit how much she enjoys it.

They are all standing fairly close together but the couples have sectioned off into their own little bubbles. She and Hans are on the outside, reasonably spaced. Anna has lost her robe as has Rapunzel. She is next and the idea of him seeing her in something so opposite of what she normally wears makes her heart race. What if he was cataloguing her traits the way she inadvertently was his? What if he liked what he saw? What if he didn’t? 

She reprimands herself. None of that matters. This is a job just like any other job and she needs to stop losing her mind over things that don’t matter.

Her fingers work the tie at her side, thankful now more than ever that they all were wearing sunglasses. If he did look at her she wouldn’t know. She shrugs and the wrap falls to her elbows and then slips all the way to her hands. She carefully draws it in front of her and folds it neatly before setting it next to her snorkel gear and hopes it is bright enough that no one can tell she is blushing. 

She retrieves her sunblock and works her way over all the parts she had missed before until she arrives at  the exposed part of her back that she cannot reach. She is struggling to bend her arms to cover stubborn spots between her shoulder blades, head bent down, and a pair of feet comes into her field of vision. She looks up and Hans Westergaard stands there with his  sanctioned sunblock in his hand. He looks at her with a smile that is nothing but warm, sincere, and if he wasn’t wearing sunglasses she is sure that his eyes would hold that defenseless, human look that always rattles her.. 

“Need some help?” He offers. “The back is always the first place to burn.”

Her decline is on the tip of her tongue but she hesitates. She can always just ask Anna for help but how will that look? No matter how infuriating and unsettling this man is he is still her client and she is trying to make a point. She can handle his flirting and still maintain a professional nature.

“Okay.” She gives a stiff nod. 

He circles around her and that is worse. She is standing there in a garment that shows every lump, bump, and irregularity. It is not cut for flattery and she should be glad of that at this moment, but she finds herself wishing she has the more daring choices of her counterparts. Or at least something that doesn’t look like she is about to take a water aerobics class at senior citizens center.

No. She mentally reprimands herself. This is for the best. She is here to be professional, and he cannot create ideas about her interest in enticing him in any way when she is wearing the equivalent of a nuns habit in modern swimwear. 

She hears him open the bottle, make the necessary squirt, and she waits then for the first touch. It takes longer than expected to come, but when it does her entire body stiffens. 

She had expected cold but there is none of that. The lotion and his touch are warm. He spreads the cream over the available skin before he begins the process of massaging it in. She stays perfectly still, not daring to move, and does everything in her power to not consider that he is touching her, she is allowing it, and that the strength of his fingers is enjoyable.

His thumbs trace the fragile wings of her shoulder blades. The slick of the lotion gives his touch a silky glide as his hands work across her skin, tracing the delicate bulbs of her spine. He comes up to where her braid hangs across her neck and pushes it to the side before she can stop him. 

She knows exactly when he sees it. She can sense it in his hesitation. The scar creeping from the base of her neck up under her hairline is a wide pink line, made wider and more noticeable with every cut, and is something she hides with low lying hairstyles and high collars but now… 

She can practically hear his breath catch at the sight. 

His thumbs run in tandem up along the length of her scar in impossible reverence. She is sure that he can feel the rapid rhythm of her heart against his fingertips where they rest on her throat before she pulls away. 

“I'm sure that's good. Thank you.” she flips her braids back over her neck in an attempt to not rub the spot his thumbs had branded and looks at him with a dare to ask her.

It would be a relief in so many ways if he would just ask. If she could just tell him and scare him away before they get any further in this unnamed dance. Behind his sunglasses it is nearly impossible to tell what his intent is until a smile spreads over his face. Instead of probing he hands her the bottle of sunscreen.

“Return the favor?” It is a question as much as it isn't and she can hardly keep from blushing when he strips off his t-shirt. He winks as he turns his back to her and she recognizes a challenge when she sees one.

But that isn’t all she sees.

Her eyes trace the ropes of his muscles as they bunch and pull as he adjusts his posture to do his own application on the front of his torso. A wide smattering of freckles swaths his broad shoulders in frenetic clusters. Despite his fair complexion there is a tawny glow that speaks of his love of being outdoors. 

For a long moment she stands there frozen just staring as he worked his hands down the length of his arms. She watches his hand slip over the enticingly sharp cuts and swells of his shoulder and then down lower. He turns his head a bit to cast a look in her direction with a smirking grin. 

“If you need more lotion, just let me know.” 

Then he is back to it. His short phrase jerks her out of whatever spell she had been under and now it feels like all eyes are on her. Is her sister watching, is Kristoff? Eugene definitely would be and Rapunzel probably was brokering some sort of wager about what is actually happening and what will happen. 

She grits her teeth. 

She knows if she looks to see if any of that is true she will not be able to do this, which is exactly why she doesn’t. She’s spent the better part of today convincing everyone that this is nothing more than a harmless flirtation and that she can handle it. Running away screaming because he needs help applying sunscreen is not going to do much for her case, but she knows she is going to hear about this later.

So she might as well put on a show.

She grabs a nearby bottle and squares her shoulders. The cap opens with a snap. She focuses on each motion as she squirts a generous amount into the palm of her opposite hand. It is too much, she knows, but it is the only shield she has. She rubs her hands together to coat them thoroughly and then, before she can lose her nerve, reaches out to touch. 

Even with the thick creamy coat of sunblock she can feel the heat of him rising to her touch. The broad lines of his back are long with foreign trenches and cords of muscle telling their story of use. His body is not exaggerated in size like her brother-in-law’s, but it is well formed, athletically cut. There is a kind of feline grace about him and the way he moves, the way his calculating eyes watch her move in this game she can hardly remember starting.

She is more rough than she needs to be, pressing hard enough that she feels him brace. She does not take the care he did to make sure that every inch of skin is absolutely slathered and rubbed in. She works from the center of his back up over his shoulder blades and then down close to the line of his swim trunks.

She stares at her own hands moving across his skin and she tries to think of anything but the idea that she is just inches away from dangerous territory. As if this entire exercise isn’t dangerous territory. She lets out a breath she did not know she was holding  and steps away.

"There. All set." She holds her hands down at her sides, palms still tingling with his heat.

He turns and faces her. 

"So," he sets his sunscreen on the deck and straightens. "Snorkel buddies? What do you say?"

She has to respect that he is actually asking instead of just assuming. It gives her the opportunity to negotiate.

"We could always triple up. No sense in creating a superfluous twosome."

"There is no possible way that any group you are a part of could be superfluous," he grins. "But it's statistically safer in pairs. Trust me one we get out there you will have so much to see that I promise you will be glad you only have to keep track of one other person."

She is not going to ask for his source on those stats, but instead she asks: “What exactly are we going to look at?” 

She had not thought it possible, but his smile grew three sizes at her question.

“My initiative,” he pulls off his sunglasses, puts them off to the side, and fits his mask over the top of his head. “Ready to see?” 

She looks over to the others and they all have their gear ready to go and are watching them. How long had they been watching them? She looks back at Hans and nods. 

He leads them to the edge of the platform. It is a few feet above the water with a plastic and metal ladder on the side. Hans sits, pulls his flippers onto his dangling feet, and then slides off into the blue water. He pops up only an instant later and swims back a few feet to look up at them. 

“Water’s great!” He treads, powerful shoulder muscles rolling. “Come on in.” 

They all follow suit. Elsa is the last to slip from the safe edge of the boat into the water below. It is cold, not freezing, but definitely not bathtub water. The temperature is jarring at first. Her body cramps and hesitates as she stays submerged, but she manages to kick to the surface. She pops up on a sputtering gasp, reorients herself, and swims to the others. 

“We’re swimming to that buoy over there.” He points to a yellow speck a few hundred yards away. I recommend using one of these to help with the swim.” He raises his arm out of the water and gestures. Several life preserver belts fly over the edge from a helpful crew member and they all grab one. “Also once we are out there it is a strict look but don’t touch policy. Ready?” 

“When will we know we are seeing what we are supposed to be seeing?” Rapunzel asks, her intrepid curiosity shining through.

“I have a feeling you will know.” He smiles and pulls his mask over his eyes. “Follow me!”

[ previous ]

[midnightlie]

prompt: “want to make out?” pairing: keith/lance notes: soft klance for days, yo. 

*

Keith is sitting there in the stove top light, going over the assignments for tomorrow, as any good team leader would, when he hears the soft scuffle of boots in the hall, quickly approaching. He sets his half-gone mug of coffee back down on the counter top and lifts his eyes from the tablet screen in front of him to look at the dark doorway. 

Lance swings into view, looking far too bright-eyed for the late hour. He’s half-dressed; his uniform jacket hangs open in the front, the sleek, black turtleneck underneath clinging to him like a second skin, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. His hair looks as though he’s done nothing but run his hands through it for hours and the yellow light from the stove falls across half of his face, turning his skin the color of warm butterscotch.

“So you are alive,” Keith says, his voice rough from hours of disuse.

Lance beams at him, pausing in the doorway. The look on his face tells him that he hadn’t expected to find company here. It also tells him that he’s glad he has. “Can’t get rid of me that easily, Kogane. Did ya miss me?”

He always misses Lance when they’re not together, but he still doesn’t know how to say that out loud. “You should eat,” he says instead, peeling his eyes away to focus back on the tablet.

“You read my mind. I am starving,” Lance admits and there’s the flicker of his shadow as he crosses in front of the light towards the cupboards on the other side of the kitchen. “I bet Hunk made something really delicious. Aw man, you should have woken me up.”

Keith grabs his coffee without looking up and takes a sip. “There’s a plate for you in the fridge,” he says simply.

The sound of Lance’s footsteps come to a stop and then change directions towards him. He glances up just in time to see Lance place one hand on the counter and then lean in, his lips brushing against the hair at Keith’s temple. “Thank you,” he murmurs, and Keith can feel warmth, all velvet and smooth and candlelight soft, rising in his chest. Lance pulls back and looks down at him with tenderness that Keith will spend his whole life making sure he deserves.

“You worked hard today; you earned that nap,” Keith tells him, running his thumb absently along the edge of his mug.

Lance rolls his eyes, but his smile is unwavering and so fond that it makes Keith’s chest hurt. “So did everyone else. You’re not giving little ol’ me special treatment just because I’m your boyfriend, are you, team leader?”

“No.” And it’s true, really, that Lance both deserved the nap and that he worked hard today. Keith doesn’t think that qualifies as special treatment at all.

Lance scoffs, the tease evident in his expression. “Then why do I even bother?”

Keith smirks, because there are about 10 different things in his arsenal that would make Lance eat those words, but looks he back at his tablet and takes another sip of coffee. “Eat, Lance.”

Lance pats his shoulder as he moves towards the fridge. “Fine, fine. What are you still doing up, anyway?”

“Going over our assignments for tomorrow. The Garrison has been breathing down Shiro’s neck about crap military standards, or something, so I figure it makes him look good if we’re prepared.” He flicks his wrist for a new page and continues to read.

“Really? You should have told me.” Lance makes so much noise pulling the plate out of the fridge and putting it in the microwave it’s a wonder that anyone in the compound is still asleep. Keith finds himself smiling about it, shaking his head slightly, thinking that he must be weird if even Lance’s inability to be quiet at midnight is endearing.

“It’s not a big deal. Don’t worry about it,” Keith says.

“Can you at least let me read, too?”

“If you want to.”

“Oh, you know I want to.” Keith doesn’t have to turn around to know that Lance is probably waggling his eyebrows or making some other exaggerated expression. Instead, he pulls out the stool beside him and gives it a pat, looking up at nothing in particular as he waits for Lance’s food to finish re-heating.

They sit in silence for a good fifteen minutes. Lance eats quickly beside him and Keith holds his hand under the table, their intertwined fingers resting on top of Keith’s thigh. His thumb rubs idle patterns against Lance’s skin, slow and lazy, their attention on the tablet as they finish reading through Shiro’s instructions together.

“So...Keith.”

“Hmm?” Keith turns off the tablet and looks over at Lance, who is leaning on the counter with his elbow, his cheek propped up in his free hand. He’s giving Keith an overly innocent look, all wide eyes and lifted eyebrows. The stove light turns him into a pretty silhouette, soft and warm around the edges, and Keith is helpless to the urge that has him bringing the back of Lance’s captive hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss there.

“I’m not tired,” Lance says. “Obviously. I just napped for, like, six hours.”

“Mm.” Keith drops their hands back to his lap, but there is heat in the pit of his stomach that asks for more.

“And judging by the amount of caffeine I know you just inhaled, you’re not tired either.”

“I guess not.”

“I think we should reward ourselves for doing our homework.”

Lance really isn’t subtle at all and Keith still hasn’t figured out if that’s on purpose or not. “Of course,” he obliges.

“Sooo…” Lance moves his eyes in a wide loop before smiling boyishly at Keith. “Want to make out?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Lance laughs as Keith pulls him off the stool and towards the door, leaving both the dirty dishes and the tablet on the counter. “Where are we going?”

Keith looks over his shoulder at him as he drags Lance into the dark hallway. “To make out.”

Lance smothers his answering laughter into the palm of his free hand and Keith doesn’t let him go, quickly skirting through the empty hallways and passing the Garrison soldiers on night patrol without a single glance. The walk to Keith’s destination is taking longer than Lance apparently expected, because he starts complaining about five minutes later.

“Keith,” he moans dramatically, long and drawn out, “ugh, for real, where are we going? I wanna kiss you.”

Keith abruptly stops and drags Lance in close, claiming his mouth in one chaste kiss before pulling away, drawing on all the willpower he has not to crowd Lance up against the wall right here in the middle of a hallway. It’s too dark to see Lance’s expression as he faces forward again and continues walking, but he thinks that Lance is probably smiling that dopey smile he gets when Keith indulges him.

There are plenty of dark corners around here; Keith doesn’t have to take Lance all the way down here, to the education buildings. But he’s had this idea for a while now, and he knows that Lance will appreciate it, the same way that Lance appreciates pretty much any of Keith’s ideas. Especially when they involve sneaking around and kissing.

“Do you have a make out spot from the good old days I don’t know about?” Lance whispers as Keith leads him down the last hallway.

“No,” he replies quietly. “Do you?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not the one dragging us all the way down to the--” he stops short as Keith slowly opens the last door and pulls Lance in after him. “Oh my god, Keith.”

Keith finds himself grinning as Lance’s footsteps quicken beside him.

“Oh my god, Keith. Who even are you. These are the--these are the flying simulators.”

He pulls Lance right up to the door of one pod and punches in the keycode he might have asked Pidge to hack several days ago. Not expressly for make out purposes, but this is a gigantic perk. “We can’t fly it,” Keith explains, “but--”

The door slides open and the interior is glowing a warm, dim orange, the simulation screen pitch black. Before Keith can take another step, Lance sandwiches his face between his hands, squishing his cheeks, forcing Keith to look at him.

“You brought me all the way down to the flying simulators to make out?” Lance’s voice is highly questioning, like he’s trying to figure something very important out.

“Yes…?” The word is higher than usual at the end and he raises an eyebrow, trying to gauge Lance’s reaction in just the low light of the simulation room.

“I love you so much. How are you real.”

Keith grins again, his cheeks squishing even more under Lance’s hands, and then his palms are finding Lance’s narrow waist and pulling him in until he’s flush against the line of his body. The hands on his cheeks brush back through the ends of Keith’s hair, arms wrapping around his neck. He breathes out, a gentle little tremor, and leans in, and then they’re kissing.

He walks Lance backwards into the simulator and pauses only briefly to hit a button on the inside to close the door, his hand fumbling before it finds its mark.

Lance hums against his mouth happily, half a chuckle, and then sighs and Keith can feel the way he melts into him, the way Lance lays himself against Keith’s chest and holds on tight. Keith slides one hand up and under the back of Lance’s jacket, pressing his palm to the delicious hollow between his shoulder blades and relishing the sound of approval that purrs in Lance’s throat.

“Would this be considered ‘special treatment?’” Lance breathes out as Keith settles down into the pilot’s chair and pulls Lance onto his lap. He quickly slides the jacket off of Lance’s shoulders and kisses the line of his jaw as Lance’s fingers make quick work on the buttons on Keith’s jacket.

“Well,” Keith murmurs, his mouth moving slowly towards the corner of his jaw and then down along the elegant line of Lance’s neck, “you’re special to me.”

Lance sighs, tipping his head back as his hands wrench open the last of the jacket and then slide sensually down Keith’s chest. “I bet you say that to all of your make out boys,” he says, voice airy, teasing again.

“Just one.” Heat burns through Keith like a shot of hard liquor when he opens his mouth and is rewarded with a throaty sound, vibrating there against his tongue. He tugs at the hem of Lance’s shirt and inches his fingers underneath, slow enough to heighten the anticipation, but quick enough to ease his own desperation.

“Who--Who is he?” Lance demands indignantly, playfully, but it’s weak and breathless and it has Keith’s stomach sinking deeper in on itself.

“You don’t know him,” he says, working open-mouthed kisses back up to Lance’s cheek.

Lance laughs at that, almost too loud and Keith’s heart trips over itself again, falling the way it does whenever Lance exists in any proximity to him. And it seems impossible, that someone like Lance with his unending kindness and his selfless approach to love could want someone like Keith, who is still learning how to trust people to stay. His hands and mouth become a little more hurried, a little more wanting, gripping at the hot skin beneath his touch and murmuring silent confessions against bitten red lips.

Lance then cups Keith’s jaw, slowing him down, guiding him in for a more tender kiss. His voice is so gentle and unbearably fond that Keith can scarcely breathe. “Hey, darling, we got time.”

They do have time. And Keith makes every last second count.

[sadrien]

prince of cats

chapter eight: which mannerly devotion shows in this

on ao3 || on ffnet 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

sorry this is late, its been. rough.

maybe dont expect a chapter next week? i should (hopefully) be moving into my dorm on sunday so uhh yeahhhh.

i literally know nothing about apartment hunting. i did some googling on like..what happens if you apartment burns down but i kept it suuuper vague so...sorry about that

enjoy

Marinette curls up at a chair in Alya and Nino’s kitchen and clicks through emails on her laptop. She needs to be designing, but her bag with her tablet in it is across the room and she doesn’t want to get up right now. She has a cup of tea in front of her and is comfortable with the way she’s sitting.

She’ll be productive later.

She checks her phone for messages, not sure what she’s expecting, but still being strangely disappointed when she doesn’t have any.

“Hey, girl,” Alya says, wandering in from the bedroom. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” Marinette murmurs. She closes her email and goes back to the apartments she was looking at. “Still looking at places. I am…struggling.” She pulls on her pigtail as she chews on her bottom lip.

“Hm.” Alya places a dish in the sink. “You know you can stay here as long as you want, right?” she asks, turning around to face Marinette.

“I know,” Marinette answers, keeping her eyes on the screen.

“Mari.” Alya sits down across from her and slowly pulls the laptop away.

“Hey! I was—”

Alya closes the laptop. “The world won’t end if we talk about this.”

Marinette sighs. “I am definitely intruding.”

Alya scoffs. “Shut up, Mar. You’ve been my best friend for like a decade now. Which, one, holy shit we’re old. Two, you will always have a home with me. You’ve known Nino for even longer, trust me, he doesn’t mind.”

Marinette rubs her temples. “I just…”

“You don’t want to be a bother. You don’t want to overstay your welcome. Blah blah blah.” Alya grabs one of Marinette’s hands and squeezes it. “Remember when we were starting university and we both thought we were going to be jobless and homeless and I promised I would share my box with you?”

Marinette nods.

“This,” Alya taps on the table, “is my box. I am sharing it with you. I swear to god, Nino and I are more than happy to let you stay here as long as you need to. As long as you’d like. We want to help you. If you feel that bad about it, you can buy groceries every once and awhile. Give us a few euros for the rent.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Marinette mumbles.

“I know you don’t want to back to your parents, but they’re there too,” Alya reminds her. “Even if they are a little bit further from your work. You might have to figure something out since they totally renovated your space, but your friends and family are here to support you. But you have to let us help you.”

Marinette sighs. “I know. I just… I don’t want to feel like I’m leeching off of others.”

“You’re not,” Alya says firmly. “We all know you can provide for yourself. Right now you just need some help and that’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Marinette takes a deep breath. “I know.”

“You don’t have to keep looking for an apartment if you don’t want to,” Alya says softly. “Or if you want to take a break from looking for a few weeks. But don’t stress out about this too much. We’re here for you.” Alya leans across the table and presses a kiss to Marinette’s forehead. “I have to go work on an article, but let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Mhm.” Marinette stares at the table as Alya gets up and goes back into the bedroom. Marinette reaches for the laptop before she stops and unlocks her phone instead.

She opens up to a text conversation she keeps opening up to, like that will change the messages that have and haven’t been sent.

From: Marinette (the Neighbor) To: The Cat Guy Hi this is Marinette Just checking to make sure we put in the right numbers and everything

From: The Cat Guy To: Marinette (the Neighbor) Yup! Numbers are right, this is indeed Adrien How are you doing?

From: Marinette (the Neighbor) To: The Cat Guy Im doing ok Im going to be staying with Alya and Nino until I figure out what to do Ho w are you?? Are you able to stay with your friend?

From: The Cat Guy To: Marinette (the Neighbor) I’m doing pretty well, Plagg isn’t loving it though And I am, yeah! Hopefully I’ll be able to find my own place soon enough

From: Marinette (the Neighbor) To: The Cat Guy Thats good!! Hopefully Ill find a new apartment soon too, Id love to get my stuff out of storage you know??

From: Marinette (the Neighbor) To: The Cat Guy If you need any help looking for apartments, let me know! Ninos surprisingly good at it andhes been helping me out

From: Marinette (the Neighbor) To: The Cat Guy I hope youre doing well

She closes her messages and locks her phone. She looks desperate. It’s been over two weeks since Adrien last responded to one of her texts. She didn’t think he’d fade from her life that fast, but apparently she was wrong.

She needs to move on. She has bigger things to worry about. Like finding an apartment.

Marinette apartment hunts for about twenty minutes before she switches over to YouTube and starts binging random YouTubers.

Goodbye, productivity.

✦ ✦ ✦

“Has he texted you back yet?” Alya asks as Marinette and Nino lounge on the couch.

“Not yet,” Marinette says, keeping her eyes on the action on the screen.

“Hm.”

Nino pauses the show. “Did you ever find his social media, Al? You were pretty determined.” Alya groans and drops onto the couch, laying across Marinette and Nino’s legs. “I tried. And I did find an instagram, but it’s just pictures of his cat.” Marinette smiles a little, even though it kind of hurts. “I can’t believe he has nothing else.”

“He’s not a very social person,” Marinette points out.

“Whatever,” Alya mutters. “He’s kind of a jerk anyway.”

Marinette looks away. “He might just be busy.” She can feel Nino and Alya’s eyes on her.

Yeah, she doesn’t really believe it either.

✦ ✦ ✦

Marinette tries to leave the apartment whenever possible. She goes to work and stays out for lunch and gives Alya and Nino as much space as she can. She loves them and believes that they would let her stay for the rest of time, but she still wants to give them privacy sometimes.

She would get sick of herself too.

She visits apartments. Some that are too expensive, ones that she hates, ones that are too far from her work, ones that are falling apart. She finds a few that she likes. There’s one she sort of has her eyes on, but she’s also, strangely, a little worried about moving in. Or out. Or…on.

She’s getting lunch at a café when she looks out the window and sees a black cat sitting on the fire escape of the next building.

She finds herself thinking of Plagg.

Marinette goes back to eating and tries not to think of Adrien too much, but part of her knows that all she’s going to draw tonight will be Adrien’s face. The curve of his nose, the line of his hair, the sweeping lines of his hair— 

That reminds her that she still needs to buy new watercolors and colored pencils. Unfortunately, of the things to survive the fire, most of her art supplies was not on the list. The fire had started on the floor above hers, and had just reached her apartment when it was put out.

Honestly, she’s relieved that anything of hers survived.

On her way back to work, she stops at the art store. She shells out on a new set of watercolors and some paper and a brush set. She hesitates at the copic markers before getting a single green that reminds her of springtime and nothing else.

As she exits the store, a black cat rubs against her legs. Marinette looks down and the cat looks up at her, meowing.

She sighs and reaches down to scratch behind its ears. “I have to get to work.” That cat headbutts her hand. “So I can only be here for a minute.”

The cat meows in protest when Marinette stops petting it and stands up. Suddenly struck by inspiration, Marinette takes a picture of that cat at her feet.

She opens a message thread that hasn’t been active in over a month.

From: Marinette (the Neighbor) To: The Cat Guy [image sent] I met a cat today and thought of Plagg I hope youre both doing well

✦ ✦ ✦

Nino turns up the music as he cooks dinner, rocking back and forth and singing into a spoon. Marinette rolls her eyes and maneuvers around him to get to the cabinet with the spices.

“Marinette!” Alya shouts from the livingroom. “You’ve got a text!”

“A text?” Marinette yells back. “From wh—”

“Holy shit!” Alya screams. “A text!”

“That sounds important,” Nino says, raising his eyebrows.

Alya trips overself as she runs into the kitchen, shoving Marinette’s phone at her.

From: The Cat Guy To: Marinette (the Neighbor) [image sent] Plagg says hi and that he’s extremely jealous

[ishouldprobablybewriting]

Heavy Hitters- Chapter One

Heavy Hitters: Outlaw Country pt 1

Sara convinces an old friend to join the Waverider team- as research and tech guru only, or so she said. As the newbie struggles to adjust to the team and the team struggles to adjust to her, Sara is playing a different game all together. One the new girl might not like too much.

Fandom: Legends of Tomorrow (or Flash or Arrowverse since it’s Mick Rory, but specifically LoT)

Pairing: Mick Rory x Plus Size OFC (cause Mick totally likes thick ladies)

Word Count: 2806 

Tags/Warnings: Language, Cannon violence

A/N: Yall. This shit is legit, just the first ten mins of the episode. Anyways. Starts out with  2x6: Outlaw Country and follows it almost word for word with the new OC of course. Not much interaction between Emily and Mick in this one but more to come soon. Lemme know what you think.

Sara watched the young woman who recently joined their merry band of misfits from the desk in the library. Her arms crossed tight across her chest and the blonde took in the soft figure of the newbie as she spoke quietly with Gideon on her tablet, pulling books here and there.

“I know you’re staring,” the brunette smiled over her shoulder.

Sara chuckled softly and pushed off the desk leaving the Ray and Amaya to discuss Nate’s findings with him. Her accent never seemed to stand out but it never quite let her fit in either, especially with everyone else on their team being from the city. It always made Sara smile, though. Steady steps brought her closer to her friend and the hologram she was talking to. “Adjusting alright?”

The larger woman shrugged a shoulder and twisted her body, “As well as can be expected I s’pose.” She bit the inside of her cheek, a tick Sara knew meant she was her considering her next words carefully. Her green eyes shifted slightly behind Sara, towards the others and back quickly. A small smile on her lips, she spoke softly “I uh… I don’ think the others like me very much.”

“Nah,” she drew, “just gotta give’em time. They’ll get used to you before you know it!” Sara’s easy smile did little to ease her companion.

“You’re wrong, Sara. Sweet, bu’ wrong. They can tell, ya’ know. That I’m not like them, I’m notta fighter-”

“Yes. You are, Emily.” Her voice soft but tone leaving no room for arguing- not that never stopped the other woman before.

“Sure, I am.” Sarcasm clear in Emily’s tone, “ A fighter tha’ don’ fight. Helluva lotta good Imma do when shit goes tits up.”

Sara opened her mouth to rebut when Nate’s machine went off.

Nate rolled dramatically back in his chair, “Saved by the aberration!”

“Oooh! What's the trouble-alert say?”

“I told you not to call it that, Ray,” Sara sighed as she took a few long strides to join them.

“Where’s the problem?” Emily calls, stepping up quickly and standing by Sara.

Nate gives her a sideways glance as he grabs the tablet attached to the machine. “The time quake’s epicenter is Liberty, Colorado, 1874.”

“Huh! Back to the wild west,” Ray beamed.

“You guys were in the old west?” Nate glanced between Sara and Ray.

“Yeah, town made me sheriff.” To his credit, Ray was at least attempting to control his pride.

“That’s cool, huh.”

“Alright,” Sara stood, “Well I will go tell Jax and Stein. Who wants to go tell Rory?”

“Not it” the boys chime, making a swift exit and leaving a confused Amaya and Emily in their wake.

“What?” Emily just shrugged her shoulders at Amaya’s question and turned to seek out Rory. “Okay, guess we’ll do it,” she muttered following Emily out.

While Nate had his hat fabricated, Ray walked in and joined him in the small silver room. Ever nosy, he picked up a folded paper he spotted by Nate’s clothes. “Huh, whats this?”

Nate turned hastily as he heard the paper crinkle, “Oh that's nothing,” taking a quick step towards Ray, “Don’t open- you don’t have to open- and you opened it. Okay.” The paper unfolded to show a rather impressive sketch of a masked superhero with a star on his chest and boots on his feet. “Commander Steel!!” was scrawled beside the character, underlined twice. He placed his hands on his hips and waiting for Rays comments on his drawing.

“Did you draw your own superhero costume?”

Nate shook his head in denial, opening his mouth and shutting it again a few times before he finally got out “Absolutely not- yeah I did. And I only did because when I steel-up my clothes stretch out and they fit all weird and besides,” he still couldn't look at Ray, though, looking at the door seemed an improvement to the floor, “ Don’t I deserve a suit?” He finally chanced a glance at Ray. “I mean, am I just the research guy here or? Ya know. And isn’t that what we have Emily for now?”

“No, no. I- I know what it’s like to be the rookie. Just uh, just follow my lead and you’ll be fine out there.”

That struck a cord in Nate. Specifically, a competitive one. “Well, I know a few things about the old west.”

“Like for instance,” Ray casually cleared his throat, “Nobody says ‘Howdy’,”

“Uh huh,” Nate nodded.

“And uhh… You know how to ride a horse, right?”

“Yeah, I can figure it out.” He waved the revolver in his hand a bit, “Is this loaded?”

Ray mostly held in his scared expression, “Yes.”

“It is? Oh!” Thankfully that was enough for Nate and he put the gun down, shooting a wink at Ray.

Emily knocked softly on the door to Mick’s room, Amaya standing just behind her. “What?” He barked at the opened the door, beer in hand.

Amaya stiffened slightly, still not used to his loud mannerisms. Emily had adjusted to that her first day on the ship. “Nate’s machine found an aberration,” she told him, “Epicenter is in Liberty, Colorado, 1874.”

A large grin split the large man's face, “Hot damn! I love the wild west!” Emily nodded and Amaya give him a questioning look as they both took a step back to leave. Mick chugged the rest of his beer and let out another cheer as the girls walked towards the fabrication room to get dressed themselves.

With everyone suited up and the Waverider successfully hidden away, the seven saddled onto horses and trotted towards the town. Or at least, six of them did. Nate seemed to find horseback riding impossible. “Uh guys, I think my horse is broken!” he cried as they stopped at a clearing overlooking Liberty. Luckily, his horse followed the others regardless.

Emily rolled her eyes a bit and pulled up next to him. “Calm down, Nate. He’s reactin’ to ya nerves.” She reached out and grabbed the reins to steady him. “There. Now tuck your hips a bit and try to keep your balance. You should be fine as long as you don’t spook ‘im. Alright?”

Nate sent her a small but grateful smile.

Mick glanced back at the scene before looking towards Jax, “Where's the professor?”

“Uh, he's feeling a little off.” he covered.

“More whiskey from me.” Mick rasped.

Before he could finish his sentence, the group heard loud hollering from down the hill. “Sounds like a commotion of some kind,” Amaya pointed out.

Sara started to dismount, “Pull back, let's get a better look.” The rest of the team followed suit, Nate with a little annoyed huff, as she grabbed her rifle. The team crept towards the sounds.

Emily kept her footsteps silent. It looked like three men standing around one on a horse with his hands tied and a noose around his neck. “Ha ha!” one let out, “Lookit him up ther’ boys!”

Mick stepped up beside Sara as she pulled out a spyglass. “Ah! It's a hanging!” Emily sent him a short glance, Did he sound happy about this?

Sara watched as one of the men ripped a pale bag from the captive’s head, “Is that Hex?” She lowered the spyglass in disbelief.

Amaya looked from Sara to the man and back, “You know that man?”

“We gotta help him,” she sighed.

“But we gotta take this crew out first,” Jax spoke up.

Ray shook his head slightly, “They look armed.”

“Don’t worry guys, I got this.” Nate stepped up and ran off, Jax glared after him but couldn’t react quick enough to stop him.

Emily hissed, “Nate!” She groaned when he ignored her.

One of the crew- the ring leader, Emily figured- spoke up. “Well, well, well! You look a loooot less mean with tha’ noose around ya’ neck. Don’cha’, Hex?”

Emily couldn’t quite make out what the man- Hex- said, but his voice was deep and rough.

“Looks pretty finished to me!” the ringleader yelled, “Do,’cha’ think boys!” They all laughed loudly, until Hex’s boot caught the man hard in the jaw. Emily spotted Nate walking calmly and purposefully up from behind the horse. “You sonnova bitch!” the man hollered towards Hex.

“You might wanna slow down there,” Nate said, drawing unnecessary attention to himself.

Emily shook her head, Welp. Good thing he can “steel up”.

Taking a few more steps towards the small mob, Nate attempted a terrible “western” accent, “These here parts aren’t big enough for the-” he quickly counted- “five of us.”

Emily and Sara both groaned silently at their teammate.

“Who tha’ ‘ell are you?!” the ringleader sneered.

Hex looked over his shoulder, “What he said.”

“On second thought, I dun’ give a damn!” he screamed as he cocked and aimed his pistol squarely at Nate’s chest. Just as he fired, Nate flinched and brought up his hand, steeling just in time to block the shot. Not to be deterred so easily, the ringleader, along with the rest of his men, continued shooting at the metal man. Nate began to laugh as he continued to block each bullet.

Emily inwardly cringed as each bullet bounced with a high pitched ting and the group looked on to see how Nate handled this.

Unfortunately they couldn’t wait for long, or rather, Hex couldn’t. All the shooting had spooked the horse which ran off without thought of the man on its back. Hex let out a strangled cry as the rope tightened around his neck and he began to swing in the gunfire. Sara cocked her rifle and took aim just above the swinging man. “Hold still, Hex” she muttered as Nate caught a bullet aimed at this head between his teeth and turned back into a flesh and blood man grinning proudly. He spit out the bullet.

Emily pursed her lips at his antics and everyone waited as Sara took her shot, hitting the rope. It wasn’t enough to sever it clean through but it was enough to fray it so the weight of Hex’s squirming body would break what was left. Hex fell to the ground with a loud thump.

Ray smiled at the scene. Mick looked mildly impressed behind Sara, “Nice shot.” Emily nodded silently in agreement.

Hex scrambles to his feet and charges the ringleader knocking him to the ground and kicks him hard when he tried to regain his footing. Nate shows up beside Hex, his shitty accent still in place, “Now you get up on that horse and you ride till you feel like you can’t ride no more,” Hex, still catching his breath, turns to glare at the stranger. Nate continues, “And then,” he cocks his gun waving it enthusiastically and ignoring Hex’s incredulous gaze, “Ya’ ride some more. Now go on! Get!” Nate hollers and fires towards the man’s knees then twice more into the air hooting as the man ran away. He lets out one more holler as he turns to face Hex, “Ooh! Aaahhh- face.”

Hex looks at him openly, “What?” It was a silent dare. One that Nate was at least competent enough to recognize.

“Nothing,” Nate shakes his head pulling a tight expression to keep himself from saying something he shouldn’t, “No, nothing.”

Hex huffs and turns towards the footsteps of the approaching team. “Aw, hell.” he growls. Sara lead the way, her life-saving rifle over her shoulder. “They’re back!”

Sara nodded her head towards him. “Always a pleasure, Jonah.”

“Wish I could say the same. The hell’s wrong now?”

Sara smirked and nodded her head back towards the Waverider. “Hoping you could tell us. Let's head back and chat at the ship.”

The ride back was mostly silent, save Nate gushing as nonchalantly as he could to Ray about how cool his little stunt was. Emily, who Nate was riding with in order for Hex to have his own horse, had half a mind to take off in a canter knowing that Ray probably couldn’t keep up and that Nate would be too terrified to brag. He’d be too busy screaming. The fact that it would have been directly in her ear was the only thing keeping her from doing it.

Their boots clanked against the metal flooring as they walked through the ship. “Saved by a filly,” Hex remarked, “Ain’t that somethin’?”

“A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice.” said Sara, half a step in front of him.

“How’d ya’ know I needed savin;?” he asked.

“Because,” her steps slowed as they reached the bridge, “we got an alert that history was about to be changed and the coordinates lead us to your hanging.”

Hex followed Sara into the study as Mick and Amaya joined them, “Well I guess it’s nice to know tha’ I matta’.”

“Leaving already?” Mick gruffed as he walked up the steps with Emily a few steps behind him. “I didn’t get to shoot anybody!”

Emily let out a soft laugh and covered her smile as she took her place by the round table in the center of the room.

Hex looked at some of the new artifacts on the shelves lining the walls and made his way over to the liquor cabinet. “I need a drink.” he muttered. “Where’s Rip?”

Sara’s head whipped towards him then she stole a glance towards the other two women in the room. Amaya gave a soft nod while Emily raised her eyebrow in difference. “Hes MIA.”

“Damn,” he drew, “How the hell’d you miscreants manage not ta get yourselves killed without him?” He picked up his glass as he turned to face the rest of the room.

Amaya narrowed her eyes a bit and straightened her back, “Miss Lance has be serving as captain.”

Hex’s eyes went a little wide as he pointed towards Sara.”But- she a lady.” He looked at her, “You are a lady, right?” Emily liked his deep gravely voice a hell of a lot less when he used it to say stupid shit like that.

Sara tilted her head with her hands on her hips, “Ya’ know know I could take your life just as easily as I saved it, right?” A small smile played on her lips as she blinked up at him. It would have almost looked kind, maybe even innocent.

Emily chuckled biting her thumbnail with a small smile. Even Mick let out a small huff of a laugh from his seat in the corner.

“Oh. Flattery.” Hex raised his drink to his lips, “Looks like this breakers in for a wild ride.” He took an appreciative look at Sara.

“Too bad this filly's into other fillies, right? Ha ha ha ha.” Mick grinned despite his laugh being fake. Emily took a mental note, narrowing her eyes slightly at him, and filed it away for later.

Hex flinched in shock, “Ya’ don’t say?”

Tired of the topic of conversation, Sara rolled her eyes and took it over, “So, how’d you end up in the noose?”

“Well, was collectin’ a bounty on a pissant by tha’ name a’ Quentin Turnbull.” He set down his drink and turned his full attention to the captain.

“As in Turnbull country?” Nate asked jogging up the stairs.

“Never heard of it.”

“Thats because its not supposed to exist.” He help up the thick blue book in his hand. “This book has changed since the last time I saw it. Check this out, Gideon-”

“Right away,” the AI answered.

“Thats a map of the United States from 1876.” Gideon projected an old map onto the screen. The western most third outlined in red with “Turnbull Country” written in bold black letters across it.

“Well that’s not right,” Emily deadpanned under her breath, earning a small laugh from Mick. She looked over her shoulder at him and raised an eyebrow. He took a sip of his beer and maintained eye contact, refusing to back down even from something as small as this. She hummed softly to herself. Interesting. I’ll file that away too, then.

“Alright,” Sara leaned forward, placing her hands on the desk in front of her, “Who’s Turnbull?”

“Some two-bit, yella-bellied, cattle wrestler.”

“Who,” Nate interjected, “controls all the land west of the Rocky Mountains.”

“Looks like we found our aberration,” Amaya stepped closer to the screen.

Hex knotted his brow, “Am I supposed to have the faintest idea what that means?”

“It means that we need to stop Turnbull,” Sara explained, “from taking over the west.”

That got Mick up and out of his seat. He stepped up to the table between Nate and Amaya, “Looks like you got yourself a posse, partner.”

Hex closed his eyes and blinked slowly at his comment. Sara just smiled, finding Hex’s forced cooperation just as funny as everyone else did- save Hex, that is.

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[franeridart]

hi. hello. this is a bit embarrassing but i'm trying to buy my bf a tablet sort of thing so he can draw his arts. he's been wanting one forever but hasn't rly shown me which one he wants. i want to surprise him n buy a good one worth the money n was just curious if you had any suggestions. i've looked into wacom products, but i'm just such a noob to these things n was hoping you can help... i understand if this is silly, you don't have to reply! ur just so amazing, ur opinion is trustworthy 😅☺️

Okay, so, this is just my opinion and since it’s based completely on personal experiences it’s gonna possibly be incredibly different from other people’s opinions, so I just wanna make clear from the start that this is a personal preference and isn’t in any way meant as an absolute truth

Anyway, as far as I’m concerned when you’re just starting out you don’t need anything fancy at all. As an aspiring digital artist your bf might have looked up tablets and cried tears of blood over how much he’d like a cintiq or anything similar, but my very personal opinion is that fancy stuff is gonna be pretty much useless to you and be generally a waste of money? You’re just learning, you don’t need anything more than the basics. My suggestion is that you pick something simple and easy to use - I own this wacom intuos, had it for a long while and I like it a lot, but there’s also less expensive options you can go for too that people seem to like just as much! I’ve lately read on my dash about the Huion H610, they say it doesn’t cost much at all but it’s just as good as the Intuos, that could be a good option for you~

Anon said:  Hey!!! I was wondering if its ok to rb your oc art? I realized a lot less people rb those and i get anxious easily so... also i really don't want to disrespect either! But i always thought of rebloging as a way of saying "i appreciate your art" and i really really (really ) like yours (both the style and itself in general). (I hope you dont mind my bad english ha ha) i hope you don't mind this stupid ask! Im still kind of new to tumblr

It’s 100% okay!!!! *O* Thank you for liking them enough to want to reblog them ;A; !!!!

Anon said:i miss ur bokuroteru so much 😭💕 i love ur art but whenever i see ur header, i just remember ur bokuroteru comic and my heart cries storms for them to be seen again.

Aw anon I’m super happy you like my stuff for those three but as of now inspiration in that department is... super low... and tbh the haikyuu fandom is being incredibly unresponsive and non-vocal about their appreciation of fanworks in this period so even when I do have ideas for that fandom I sort of. Let them go. Or just sketch them out and never finish them.

Like, you know the whole deal about having to draw for yourself and not for others? That’s what I do 100% of the times when I’m starting a drawing, but to draw for myself I don’t exactly need to finish a drawing, you know? Sometimes there’s a scene I wanna see and I sketch it out in a super rough way and as far as my personal desire to see it goes I’m satisfied with that, and everything after that - the cleaning and lining and maybe even coloring - I put the effort in it because I want to share it with people. And the deal with the Hq!! fandom lately is that they don’t share my excitement for it. They either only like it, or don’t comment on it, or comment only to complain about this or that thing. In the worst case posting hq!! only ends up with people asking me to draw something else (ie I feel like drawing Karasuno so I draw it and post it and no one comments/rb/says anything about it but there’s 20 asks in my inbox asking me why I haven’t drawn any bok*ro lately)

When I think about posting stuff for hq lately I automatically compare it to posting stuff for bnha where I could draw a background character that appeared once 120 chapters ago and there’s still gonna be people that go “yes! that character!! I love that character!!! can’t believe there’s actual art for it oh my god!!!!” - that’s... that’s the sort of reaction that makes you wanna share stuff

I dunno, maybe I’m just expecting too much out of the hq fandom. But anyway, sharing for bnha makes me way happier and glad I decided to finish a drawing lately, so I guess that’s what’s happening there.

Anon said:Every time your soft doods art shows up on my dash I have to pause and take a deep breath and just thank god for all the good in the world because I'm blown away every single time

This is s o s w e e t oh my god ;A; thank you so much!!!!

Anon said:Johnny is a fucking angel dammit. Have you read the new DGM already?? I'm in tears. I love this manga so much. The frequency of the releases are killing me... it has such a great story and great characters. It needs more love

I did read it!!!! And yeah the fandom used to be way bigger, but honestly I’m glad it’s just the couple dozens people it is. Like a small town where everyone knows everyone else. No drama, no discourse. Everyone ships what they want and we all pass each other tissues to dry the tears. The only argument that happens regularly is people complaining about the relase schedule and the old fans telling them to let Hoshino live. A good place, this fandom’s a good place.

DGM was my playground for most of my experimenting as far as creating art goes, I really did reach in all directions with it through the years and it helped me shape myself a lot, so I really want it to stay quiet and nice and peaceful, that’s my dream for it haha smaller fandoms have a better chance to keep that freedom

Anon said: Oh man, I live for that Togata x Amajiki interaction

You talking about the color spread cause yes that was adorable!!! ;A;

Anon said:I look a little, and do you still draw Bakugo x Kirishima x Kaminari?

Sure, it’s still my main ship for Kaminari and my main ot3! Just wait for Denki to start being relevant in the manga again, I’ll probably fall headfirst into it all over again haha

Anon said:Your art is so wonderful you're wonderful everything's so wonderful i'm crying omg

SOB no anon you’re wonderful!!!!

Anon said:Due to my brain not wanting to cooperate with me (ever), Bakugou Katsuki is now Batsuki Katsuki in my head.

This is the funniest thing I’ve read today and I’m in t e a r s hahaha

Anon said:Artistic!Mina making pop art and colorful paintings :o what are ur thoughts

HELL YES that’s my main headcanon for Mina, she’s definitely an artsy girl!!! I like the idea of her sharing it with Bakugou t b h

Anon said:I'm still just repeatedly looking at your newest KiriBaku because hot damn.

I’m super glad you liked it!!!!!!! oh my gOD!!!!!!!

Anon said:Heyy please rec Kami comics please! I'm in a Kami art shortage and I currently can't find art as awesome as yours...

I’m so sorry I wish I could help you with this but I don’t know anyone who draws lotsa Kaminari either ;---;

[rxanizmm]

a long long post about my drawings

Well, I’ve been thinking about posting this for a while now. I just... feel like I owe my followers some explanation. Even if most of them forgot about my blog and works already, I know there are some who still do remember me and I just feel guilty keeping them in the dark about what’s going on and why I’m not posting much. It took me a lot of thinking to put what I want into words. It’s scary, I’m really scared and I think ... I don’t really know. Can anyone even help me? Since it’s going to be long, I’ll just put the rest under cut.

So. For the past months my life has been kinda.. rough. My relationship ended, I had a really stressful time in uni, since it was the end of the semester. I had a lot of projects to finish and heard a lot of harsh words about my work. I’ve been thinking about opening commissions as soon as I finish my projects so I could buy a new tablet. My old bamboo is starting to act up and I miss the feeling of seeing my hand when I draw. I finished uni on 27th June. Today is 16th July. Have I gotten at least a penny? No. I pretty much wasted the entire time not drawing anything. And it doesn’t really affect me much. I remember I used to suffer when I couldn’t draw, I’d use every opportunity given to doodle at least. Now I don’t do anything. I play games, I watch videos. As soon as I open my art program, I close it again because it’s stressful. It’s stressful looking at that blank canvas. I thought it’s just an artblock. Or maybe I’m tired. Maybe I’m exhausted physically and emotionally and I need some rest. But it’s not that. I keep thinking about drawing, I think about what I want to draw, I look through artworks, tutorials, tips, speedpaints every single day. But I don’t draw myself. I’m scared because I know I’ll fuck up. I know it’ll come out bad and I’ll just disappoint myself. I know there’s this whole thing about how your expectations and your skill go through different phases, sometimes your expectations are higher than your skill, then your skill is higher than your expectations. It goes back and forth. But fuck, it’s like my expectations skyrocketed to Jupiter, while my skill is somewhere on the ground level. I tried to do redraws of my old works, I tried to work on my anatomy, I tried different styles. It just all looks so wrong to me, I wouldn’t want to show anyone. It got to the point when I really don’t want to even start drawing, because I know I’ll end up hating it anyway - so what’s the point? It’s a waste of time. I know I need to make mistakes and fuck up a bunch to improve. I know artists say ‘go and be bad at it, then you’ll get good at it’, but it’s like my brain refuses the first step. If I’m not good at it then what’s the point of doing it - I think. I look at my friends improving, making great artworks, achieving things - and then I look back at myself. I’m tired of drawing headshots over and over, but that’s the only thing I don’t fuck up much. Though lately, even those look bad to me. I’m scared I’m slowly burning out. I’m scared of drawing because with each disappointment I get less and less interested in drawing. And I hate it, because drawing is all I have. I can’t do anything else, really. I don’t have any other passion. I just feel so dull with everything. I still have art on my waitlist that I owe people, but how can I send them something I can’t even look at? It’s just not right. I wish I felt happy when drawing, like I did back then. When I was younger, my art was far from good, but yet I loved it and did it. My artworks were interesting, I would draw dynamic poses and multiple characters, and I didn’t care if I fucked up the anatomy or not. I had no fears, I just put what I had in my mind on paper the best I can. But now I’m stressed. It came out wrong, I can’t post it anywhere, what if someone comes and points it out? I’ll die of embarrassment. People have certain expectations of me. /I/ have expectations. Expectations that I can’t meet. And I can’t meet them because I can’t draw. And I can’t draw because I can’t meet my expectations. It’s an endless cycle. Can I ever get out of it? If you got through all this text until here, I congratulate you. And thank you so much for reading this. I just feel helpless, scared and down. I really want to just draw again.